A Not-So Different Story
by raiaR6
Summary: Shawn Spencer is taken in for questioning after numerous tips. They ask for a plausible reason, but unlike the show, what if Shawn doesn't say he's a psychic... Right away? What if the first case was handled without the edge?


**I own nothing involved with the making of _Psych, _though I really wish I did! James Roday... Yeah. Enjoy my take of season 1, episode 1! With a twist... :D**

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Only half the interrogation room was tense, demanding... _Angry._ Carlton Lassiter assumed the other half was scared, on the verge of a plea for no jail time. Beg at his shoes. But as he locked eyes with the man rocking back in the chair, Lassiter didn't have to think twice. This man was a joke. Meaning, he must be easy to break. Lassiter bent forward, placing his hands on the cold table as he stared the opponent down.

The man imitated the action and forced a serious look onto his face. "You guys arrested the store manager, am I right?"

Lassiter grunted as he was impersonated and he straightened posture hastily. "Why don't you let us ask the questions for a while?"

The man put his hands up in defense. "Okay." He rested back in the chair once again and sighed heavily. His eyes locked onto the two-way mirror in front of him and behind the detectives. The male detective toyed with the female detective's hair for a brief moment and the man chuckled. "So, which questions might those be?"

"Oh, I don't know. Like, where were you the night of the last robbery?" Lassiter asked, sarcasm lacing his voice as he watched the energized man rest back into the plastic chair once more.

"I was robbing a stereo shop." The man said simply, then smiled and laughed shortly without any humor. "I wasn't. I don't know, I guess I was doing the same thing you were doing. Not solving crime."

Lassiter huffed, glancing down at his seated partner, Lucinda. She glared at the man across from her before looking down at the case file. Shawn Spencer. A little kid name. A puny punk she knew Lassiter wanted to beat into the ground. "You're not helping your case here." Lucinda heard Lassiter say after a long silence, in which most likely gave Shawn more confidence than wanted.

Shawn raised an eyebrow, pressing the tips of his fingers to the table as he leaned forward. "My case? Wait, wait, wait. I'm actually a suspect?" His words came out in a moment of shock, his eyes growing wide as he studied the detective's face. Lassie, or Lass-something because Shawn hadn't paid much attention to the names, didn't look like a guy who could joke around. Especially on this level of urgency.

"Oh, you're our lead suspect." Lassiter said sternly, his hands on his hips as he smiled faintly at Shawn. There was no escaping this. He would have to admit his part in the crimes…

With an eye roll, Shawn threw his hands in the air. "I gave you the guy!"

"He had a partner."

Shawn blinked, shook his head and fumbled with his hands before laughing curtly. "I have to find that guy too? I'm confused. When do you start chipping in?" He pressed his lips together, watching as the emotions blended together on the head detective's face. He was boarder line annoyed.

Lassiter cleared his throat. There wasn't a thought in his mind veering away from the urge to punch Shawn. His hand twitched and Lassiter glanced at the mirror to his side. "See, your information was good. So good, it could only have come from the inside." He explained, glancing at Shawn's reflection as he spoke.

"Inside of what? Look, I've called in dozens of tips, okay? Just check it out."

"I did. I checked out a whole lot of stuff. Like…" Lassiter broke off, rummaging through the files scattered across the table until Lucinda handed him a sheet. "Oh, you're currently unemployed. You've never held a job down for more than six months, and you have a criminal record." He finished, nodding in approval at the cold, hard facts. The truth is those simple words told him this man was going from for being the stupid accomplice.

Shawn couldn't hold back his laugh, though this one sounded nearly nervous. His composure stayed calm and relaxed. Unreadable. "I was eighteen." The room fell silent as Lassiter froze, though Shawn knew he was only doing it to seem as if he was thinking it over. Hardly. Mr. Bean is worse than Dad.

"Oh, eighteen? Well, that makes it okay, let me just scratch that out!" Lassiter threw the files onto the table roughly, several pieces of papers drifting out and onto the floor. Shawn watched several fall, spotting ends of words and parts of black and white pictures.

He lifted his head back up and forced his eyes onto Lassiter's nose. Because he'll think I'm being polite. It always looks like you're staring into someone's eyes. Thanks, Gus. See, buddy? I can have fun anywhere. "I borrowed a car." Shawn replied as he stopped mentally thanking his best friend, who was most likely working his other job. Where they sell butt creams and whatnot.

"You stole a car."

"To impress a girl."

Lassiter's thin lips reopened like he was about to say something, but he was sharply cut off by his partner, "Look, forgive us, Mr. Spencer, if this seems far-fetched…"

"Would it help at all if I told you that she had a bit of a reputation and I was 0 for high school? Okay, fine. There were extenuating circumstances," he flung his hands up in his familiar action before crossing his arms, "the arresting officer was my father. He was trying to teach me a lesson."

Lassiter grunted. Enough of this damn kid. He mirrored Shawn's movement and crossed his own arms.

"Did you learn it?"

"I learned that I hated my father, so… Sure."

"Well, pardon me if I'm just a little skeptical. Believable as it is, that you solved all these crimes by… I'm sorry, what was it?" Lassiter made a firm point by looking down at the scattered papers, a finger tapping against one in particular as he clicked his tongue against his teeth. "By watching the local Channel 8 News reports."

Shawn swung his head to the left, checking the file from the corner of his eyes as he sat up in the chair. "I confess. That's… Not entirely true. Sometimes I watch Channel 5. I prefer Channel 8." He looked at Lucinda with a mystifying smirk. "That weather girl? Adorable."

"So… You're telling us that you can read guilt off of TV interviews?" Lucinda asked, her chocolate brown eyes never leaving Shawn's hazel ones.

"Can't you?" He asked, his eyebrows rising as his smirk reappeared.

Without removing his eyes from Lucinda, Shawn felt a large impact against the table. Lassiter had smacked it quite roughly. "Don't you try and trivialize police work!"

A small, disappointed sigh released from Shawn as his eyes wavered for a single second. He debated looking at the Scarecrow Cop, but that would mean having to look into his blackened eyes. Man, is that guy weird. Eventually, Shawn made his way back to facing Lassiter. "I think you're doing a bang-up job of that all by yourself." He readjusted his seat, stood and lifted his arms in a "sorry" fashion. "You can't keep me here, guys. I know my rights." Shawn called over his shoulder as he made his way to the metal door to his right.

"Good. Then you know you have the right to remain silent," Shawn tugged the door open, ignoring Lassiter as he came face to face with the tall man from the lobby. Officer Dance-y Feet. Shawn snuck a peak at the name tag. Nope, Officer McNab.

"You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you."

Shawn poked the rookie's badge with a chuckle before looking over his shoulder at Lassiter. "Wait a minute, you're serious?"

Lucinda glided up to the entrance with Lassiter directly in front of her. She had nearly the look of sympathy scorched across her face as her partner spoke, "a few hours in a holding cell might jog your memory."

Shawn took a quick look at the holding cells, other prisoners detained for more days than just one. Maybe days, maybe weeks. Shawn wasn't too keen on finding out. He gulped, looking back at the detectives as he scrunched up his nose in distaste.

"Just give us a reason, Mr. Spencer. That's all we need. How did you get this information?"

Lassiter shook his head, "no. It is too late for that. Officer Allen, book him." He said to the small, Hispanic desk sergeant behind Officer McNab. She nodded, pulling her cuffs from her belt and tightening them around Shawn's wrists.

"Oh, come on. Cuffs? What? For the walk back to the lobby?" Shawn whined, tugging against the metal restrains aggressively.

"Or, you could give us a plausible explanation…"

Shawn lifted his head, glancing at Lucinda with a cocked eyebrow. "Okay, okay. Fine, you win. I got the information… Because I," he froze, his eyes trailing over the other occupants of the tiny doorway. "Because..."


End file.
